Bold as Brass

Evening light on the coast near Far Arnside.

‘Back to work’ a three word phrase perhaps as dispiriting as ‘replacement bus service’? (see the comments a couple of posts back!). But all good things, including long summer teaching holidays, have to come to an end I suppose.
To add insult to injury, the weather in the first week of September usually takes a turn for the better after the damp squib which has been August. Certainly our first Monday at least was lovely. Starting how I meant to go on, I got out that evening for an ascent of Arnside Knott. The following evening I was out on my bike, after that my resolve seems to have crumbled – or probably the weather returned to our new norm of rain, rain and more rain.

A pair of Roe Deer in the woods, Heathwaite.

During a recent visit to ours, The Sherpa and The Prof were speculating on how many times I’ve climbed the Knot. To be honest, I don’t have a clue, but I think that they estimated, I don’t know how, a figure of around a thousand times. That might be a fair guess. This particular ascent stands out from the many not just because of the lovely evening light, but because of this pair of Roe Deer which stared at me for a while, but then went back to browsing the woodland floor seemingly quite unconcerned even when another walker passed and threw us all a cheery greeting.

Kent Estuary post sunset.

A pair of Roe deer in our garden.

My guess is that this pair are siblings, although I couldn’t tell you why I think that. I’ve noticed that the deer are occasionally more brazen in our garden these days too, particularly when we are in the house when they seem to have no qualms approaching quite close.

Addendum: I’ve found some more photos, which I took on my camera and hadn’t downloaded, and this is in fact three deer – a mother and her two fawns, so I wasn’t so far off with my siblings guess.

Here’s the mother:

Roe deer close up.

A very hairy caterpillar, possibly a Ruby Tiger moth.

Whilst I remember both sets of deer, I have no recollection at all of photographing this caterpillar. I hope that it was in our garden, I once found a very colourful Garden Tiger Moth in a spider’s web on one of our window ledges, but it would be nice to think that we have resident Ruby Moths too. One day I’ll get around to making or buying a moth trap and then I suppose I’ll find out.

Creatures of Habit on Carn Fadryn

The view inland from Carn Fadryn.

No trip to Towyn is complete without an ascent of Birthday Hill. This time we were a little early for Little S’s big day, but, as ever, it was a great sociable walk.

The view along the Llyn Peninsula from Carn Fadryn.

As usual, we sat on the top for an age, enjoying the amazing all-round views.

A good spot to wait for the slow coaches (like me).

On our way down, we passed a young family with small kids who seemed to be enjoying their walk. I wondered whether they would be back again when the kids were towering over their parents like the DBs do.

Porth Towyn pano.

With the sun actually shining, and a bit of accompanying warmth, a trip to the beach was the obvious follow up. We squeezed in the usual favourites: swimming, body-boarding, tennis, chucking stuff at other stuff and beach cricket; although, sadly, the standard of fielding has noticeably declined over the years.
I think it might have been the next morning when I finally got around to a snorkel, but the water was very cloudy.

TBF body-boarding.

The Prof taking it all in.

The DBs playing beach tennis.

A highly competitive match of chucking things at other things.

The Eternal Weather Optimist has been living in symbiosis with his famous green fleece since at least the mid-80s, rather like the ecosystem of algae, fungi, moths, and insects which survive in the fur of sloths. Although, admittedly, he moves a good deal faster than your average sloth. Unlike me.

This is obviously Boules for the old and infirm, with the ‘cochonnet‘ within falling distance.

This might seem a bit rich coming from me, ridiculing my old friends just because they would have as good a chance of reaching the jack by holding their boule above their head and falling flat on their face in the sand, but these folk are all older than me*, I bring the youthful zest to the party! I can chuck a boule more than a couple of yards at least. Even if I have undermined my argument somewhat by using imperial units.
*Well, a bit older anyway. Aside from the EWO, but I’m not as old as his fleece, so that’s okay.

A large hovering raptor. A Buzzard?

Later, back at the tents, there was a good deal of excitement about a bird of prey which was hovering above the cliffs. It was clearly much too big to be a Kestrel, which is the obvious first thought in this situation. My expertise was called upon and then immediately called into question when I suggested that it was probably a Buzzard. But they do hover, honest. Not as proficiently as Kestrels, but they can do it.

Sunset from Porth Towyn.

Later still, we had a late wander down to the beach, another staple of our trips. I think this was the evening when we tried to throw some frisbees around in a very strong wind, without much accuracy, or catching.

A late trip to the beach.

Little S and I decided to go rock-pooling in near darkness. Our rock-pooling was never very successful on this trip, but we did find a good-sized Shore Crab. It was very dark and the photo was taken with flash.

A large Shore Crab.

The next day, we were heading home, but still managed to fit in some swimming and a little more fruitless rockpooling before we needed to pack up.

Rockpools and seaweed.

Rockpool colour.

Seaweed.

Little S.

B heading back to help pack up our tent.

A short trip, with some very mixed weather, but our trips to the Llyn Peninsula are always good value. Roll on next summer!

Mud Circles and the Dales 37

Inman Oaks.

Three photos from a Monday evening stroll, in lovely light, the day after my Great Knoutberry Hill outing. It was a beautiful evening, but aside from the fact that I walked a route which I habitually take anticlockwise in the opposite direction for some reason, there’s not great deal to say about it.

The Lots.

On the other hand, my trip to Dentdale, and some of my other Lune Catchment walks of late, have me reflecting on how patchy my knowledge of the Dales is. When I climbed Black Combe with old friend OGS this summer (post soon to come) he was telling me about his pursuit of the Ethels, a list of 95 hills over 400m in the Peak District. Last summer, in the Adirondacks, I was very struck by the 46 – a bagger’s list of all the 4000′ peaks in the area. There must be something similar in the Dales surely?
Of course there is: a quick Google revealed a book called the Dales 30, which details walks to all of the Dales Hewitts, Hewitts being hills over 2000′ which require a reascent of at least 30m, so a subset of the Tumps. This reminded me of a book I knew I had lying around somewhere, the English volume of the Nuttalls books which detail walks to all the English and Welsh 2000′ hills. In their specification, a hill has a minimum 15m drop on all sides , not 30m. Curiously, that only takes the list from 30 to 37.

Mud circles – artwork? The Cove and the sun dropping behind Hampsfell.

Looking at those 37, there are some that I’ve climbed many times, some that I haven’t climbed for ages, and some which I’m not really sure about one way or the other – I may have done them years ago, in my University days, but not since.
I have several half-baked, half-finished projects on the go already, but I’m very tempted to start ticking these off too. Will I repeat all the ones I know I’ve done before? Not sure. Will I set a deadline? Definitely not. Will I ever finish my multifarious self-imposed tasks. Never! But I’ll have fun trying!

Maybe I’ll start this weekend!

My vegetable spirits are soaring.

Guelder Rose, flowering.

Without mentioning it, I’ve slipped into June on the blog. These photos are from local walks, almost all from the first weekend in June, the end of our Whit week holiday. I was out twice on the Saturday, to Lambert’s Meadow and Woodwell in the afternoon and then a very short tour round the fields in the evening. And three times on the Sunday: a Jenny Brown’s Point circuit with TBH in the morning, Lambert’s Meadow again in the afternoon and another short postprandial leg-stretcher in the local fields in the evening.

Ragged Robin.

Common Blue Damselfly.

I took a lot of photos of Common Blue damselflies, there were a lot of them about. I also saw quite a few Broad-bodied Chasers, all of them female again, although most of the photos I took were from quite a distance, I only got reasonably close once…

Broad-bodied Chaser, female.

On the other hand, I only got two photos of this…

Emperor Dragonfly.

…my first photos of an Emperor Dragonfly, something of a holly grail, since they never seem to land. Even this time it was a fairly fleeting opportunity. I have more photos to come, however, of our largest species of dragonfly.

Brown-lipped snail.

Brown-lipped snail.

Merodon equestris, male. Narcissus Bulb Fly.

I’m almost as excited by this hoverfly, since I think that this may be another first for me. The common name reflects the fact that the larvae of this species will eat Daffodil bulbs, but in the wild they generally live on Bluebell bulbs. The fascinating thing about this species is that there are several different forms which mimic a variety of different species of bumblebee.

Woundwort.

Yellow Water-lily in Woodwell pond.

Honey Bees (I think). Are they having a drink?

Large Red Damselfly, male.

Sunset.

Sharp’s Lot.

Wild Celery.

Lambert’s Meadow.

Peacock butterfly caterpillars.

My second trip to Lambert’s Meadow of the weekend was a bit frustrating since I hadn’t recharged the battery in my camera, a common error on my part. Since my old camera wasn’t too good at close-ups, and there’s always lots to see at Lambert’s Meadow, I missed out on getting decent photos of some Dock Beetles, and a rather dapper little Chafer.
That night, I dropped my phone, for the umpteenth time, which must have been the final straw; after that, it refused to turn on. Which means that the following Friday, when I climbed Arnside Knott for the sunset and took very few photos, I didn’t have a phone to record my route.

Sunset from Arnside Knott.

The post’s title, incidentally, is from Wendy Cope’s ‘Being Boring’ again. Is it an allusion, I wonder, to Marvell’s ‘To his Coy Mistress’?

“My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow”

Hmmm, a bit thin perhaps? Some lazy, internet research led me to lots of adverts for hooch brewed from parsnips and beets and the like, and then to this:

“Newton was constantly awed by the beauty and complexity of the nature that surrounded him. Over time, he concluded that the massive variety of life and processes that occur in nature, such as growth, decay and fermentation, meant there must be some driving force that makes it all happen. He believed that the ‘vegetable spirit’ was that force, and thought it might also be linked with light.”

Source

Hmmm, again. “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower”?

Apparently, he was attempting to reconcile science and religion.
I always find it slightly comforting that a genius like Newton devoted so much time and effort to the pursuit of Alchemy. Maybe if he had been around today, he might forget to charge his camera battery or drop his phone and break it?
I’m pleased too that he was ‘constantly awed by the beauty and complexity of the nature that surrounded him’.

Being Boring

Inman Road, Eaves Wood.

A short post for a change. Bank Holiday Monday, a good time, when the roads are busy, to keep it local. I was out twice, once for an Eaves Wood circuit, then later for a wander to Woodwell and back via The Lots and The Cove.

Bird’s-foot Trefoil, and, I think, a Mining Bee.

In Eaves Wood there’s a large clearing, which, being sheltered by trees on all sides, is a bit of a sun-trap when the weather is good. On this occasion, there were lots of butterflies about in that area. They were extremely elusive, but I did manage to get a couple of photos.

Dingy Skipper.

Common Blue.

Common Blue.

In amongst the trees the most commonly seen butterfly is definitely the Speckled Wood…

Speckled Wood Butterfly.

The silage cut.

Sunset from The Cove.

Bit of a boring post, but I’m quite happy with that I’ve decided.

‘Being Boring’ by Wendy Cope.

Fly Orchids at Last!

Another week’s worth of evening, post-work walks from near the end of May.

Tuesday: The Lots and The Cove.

Late light on The Lots.

Sunset over Hampsfell.

Thursday: Lambert’s Meadow – Bank Well – Myer’s Allotment – Leighton Moss – Trowbarrow Quarry

Lambert’s Meadow – I can’t stay away.

Guelder Rose.

Comma Butterfly.

Comma Butterfly.

Peacock Butterfly.

Male Common Blue Damselfly and female Damselfly (I’m not sure which flavour).

Greenfinch.

Leighton Moss from Myer’s Allotment.

Flowering shrub at Leighton Moss, coated in webs.

…containing caterpillars.

Male Pheasant, completely hidden, he thinks!

Leighton Moss.

Leighton Moss.

The causeway.

Trees fogged with Willow seeds.

Everything was quilted with Willow seeds.

Fly Orchid

I’ve been hoping to spot some of these for years, so this was something of a red letter day. I’d been looking at another orchid, a Common Twayblade, and then noticed an even smaller orchid nearby. They’re tiny.

“Despite the flowers looking like flies, they actually attract digger wasps. They release a scent which mimics a female wasp’s pheromones, luring in males that attempt to mate with them. The male wasps get a dusting of pollen, which they carry on to the next flower that fools them, hopefully pollinating the plant.”

Source

How the heck does a pollination method as complex as that evolve?

Friday: The Lots – across the sands to Park Point and back.

Arnside Knott from the Sands.

Looking back to The Cove and Know End Point.

Hawkweed seedhead.

The flowers of this hawkweed appeared in a fairly recent post. I wasn’t expecting the seedheads to be almost as attractive, but when the multicoloured interior was revealed, I think it was…

Colourful Hawkweed Seeds.

Common Blue Butterfly.

Bloody Crane’s-bill.

When Andy and TBF were down on the Gower, a few days prior to this walk, TBF messaged me about the lovely pink flowers which were dotted about the coast there. Maybe that was at the back of my mind when I came this way. Anyway, there were lots of Bloody Crane’s-bill in evidence along our coastal cliffs too.

Heather.

Unidentified caterpillar.

Quaking Grass.

Appealing seedheads.

Burnet Rose.

More Bloody Crane’s-bill.

Horseshoe Vetch.

Common Blue Butterflies.

I think that these butterflies were mating, or attempting to mate. They kept being disturbed by a third Common Blue, a male, which persistently flew towards them.

Dropwort.

Micro Moth.

Small, day-flying moths are very common in the summer, but as soon as they land they seem to disappear, so I was lucky to spot this one.

Dingy Skipper.

Cryptocephalus bipunctatus – a nationally scarce species of beetle.

Bee holes?

I watched a couple of dark bees flying very low to the ground near to these holes, but didn’t manage to get photos, or seem them approach the holes, so I’ll never know whether these are bee burrows.

Bloody Crane’s-bill and Rock Rose.

Rock Rose.

Thrift.

May was a busy month; without really making a conscious effort, I logged over 250km of walks. The excellent weather helped a lot!
Not that I’ve quite finished my May posts yet!

Gloaming Gratification.

Monday – The Cove and The Lots

Lovely evening light on the cliffs at The Cove.

So, here I am getting out after work in my new enthusiasm to see how many WHO approved ‘health points’ I can earn. All a bit frivolous, but the evening light, and my frequent encounters with deer made it worthwhile on their own.

Horseshoe Vetch in the same golden light.

Orchids on The Lots.

Another failed attempt to replicate a ‘sunset and orchids’ photo taken by a proper photographer who lives in the village. Ah well. Fail again, fail better.

Tuesday – Hagg Wood, The Lots and The Cove.

Hagg Wood. Two Roe Deer in the distance. Honest.

Post sunset at The Cove.

Thursday – The Cove and The Beach.

Wisteria.

This Wisteria is here as a testament to perseverance and the value of well meant advice. TBH planted two of them by our garage wall over a decade ago. One of them has never really grown much. The other has become a big sturdy plant, but never flowered until a couple of years ago when a single inflorescence appeared. Last year I think there were two, or possibly three. Our neighbour advised an application of tomato feed. Eh voilà!

…with flowers!

Thrift and sunset.

Much more successful. There’s hope for me yet.

These photos were taken after a walk across the sands from The Cove to Know End Point which quickly turned out to be ill-advised, since the mud was firm, but had a slick layer on the surface which managed to cling to my shoes whilst still being so slippery that progress was difficult. I’ve a feeling that Google Fit doesn’t account for the relative viscosity of the surface I’m walking on?

Thrift and sunset.

I like this one too.

Sunset.

Friday – Hawes Water and back through Eaves Wood.

Oak tree between Bottom’s Lane and The Row.

Roe Deer doe.

Hawes Water.

Bird’s-eye Primroses.

Controversially, much of a big stand of Beech trees was removed by Natural England at Hawes Water. Conservation bodies chopping down trees never seems to go down well, whatever the justification. Personally, I think the jury is still out on the success or otherwise in this case, but one of the stated aims was to provide the right habitat for Bird’s-eye Primrose, growing here, I believe, in its most southerly location in the UK. In one area which was cleared, that has worked beautifully, for now at least.

Bird’s-eye Primroses.

Mackerel sky.

Red Deer hind.

I was quite surprised to see two deer in a field by Moss Lane, right beside a row of terraced cottages. They didn’t seem very phased by my interest. I knew that they were Red Deer rather than Roes for several reasons, principally their size, but still began to doubt myself.

However, the clincher is the fact that this fellow…

Red Deer stag.

…has broad new antlers growing, whereas a Roe Deer buck, in mid-May, would be fast approaching the rutting season and his much thinner antlers would be already complete and furless.

Red Deer hind.

Whereas the local Roe Deer seem to roam here, there and everywhere, the Red Deer never seem to stray too far from Leighton Moss, or, in this case, Hawes Water Moss. Isabella Tree, author of ‘Wilding’ has a theory that Red Deer have a natural affinity for water and their habits in this area would seem to support that idea. I’ve discovered that research has recently been undertaken at Lancaster University on the impact of Red Deer on reedbeds, although it seems that the research was inconclusive.

Red Deer stag.

As if to help confirm how very different the two species look, a Roe Deer Buck posed for a photo as I walked home through Eaves Wood…

Roe Deer buck.

A Silverdalian was telling me recently that the RSPB, of all people, cull both the Roe and Red Deer populations locally, which, it turns out, is at the very least partly true. In fact, it seems that the RSPB cull Red Deer at other reserves too. Not something they shout about in their literature. It is, I’m sure, a complicated issue.

We talked also about the damage Roe Deer do in gardens and weighing that up against the joy of seeing them at close range. His final word was:

“I always think: they were here before we were.”

Few-flowered Leek and other Curios.

Coral-root.

On the day after B’s big night out, he was playing rugby in the afternoon, and I was accompanying as usual, but in the morning TBH and I did our usual Sunday circuit through Fleagarth Wood and around Jenny Brown’s Point. By the end of April, there were all sorts of flowers along the verge of Lindeth Road, our route back into the village. I was particularly taken by the Coral Root, which seems to crop up somewhere in this part of the village each spring. Whilst it’s a plant which is native to the UK, it’s probably a garden escapee in this area.

Few-flowered Leek

This was new plant to me. Definitely not a native plant, Few-flowered Leek is regarded as an invasive pest and, as such, it’s illegal to cause it to spread in the wild. On the plus side, apparently it’s very nice to eat – just don’t put any trimmings in your compost or it may take over your garden. It will be interesting to see whether it spreads along the lane over coming springs.

Stormy weather over the Bay from Caton Moor.

On the Monday evening, Little S was at Explorers in Littledale. Since I was dropping him off and then bringing him back later, I parked up on Caton Moor, by the wind-farm, and enjoyed the views.

And the sunsetting over Black Combe from almost the same spot.

The first May Bank Holiday weekend, when we would usually be camping in Wasdale with our old cronies, was a busy one again. We had a dance show in Newcastle to attend on the Saturday and the North-West Colts rugby final on the Sunday. Unlike last year, Kirkby Lonsdale didn’t win. On the plus side, I’m assured that the ref has been offered spectacles for his future outings.

Early Purple Orchid.

On the Bank Holiday Monday, TBH and I were out for a local stroll, through Fleagarth Wood again, but then across Quaker’s Stang, to Crag Foot, across the lower slopes of Warton Crag to Summerhouse Hill and back via Leighton Moss.

TBH walking through Ramsons in bloom near Crag Foot.

Leighton Moss.

Through the woods.

The path from Crag Foot to Peter Lane is one we don’t walk that often, but perhaps we should: it’s quiet and in places rather lovely.

Large boulders.

Another large boulder on Summerhouse Hill.

TBH enjoying the view from Summerhouse Hill.

Unidentified small caterpillar.

Orrest Head and School Knott.

View of Windermere and the Langdale Pikes from the car park on the A592.

B turned 18. Many of his friends turned 18 at around the same time, so they decided to have a day out in Windermere. Spoiler alert: it was expensive! Who’d have thought. Anyway, you can probably guess my part in this story – yep, B needed a lift to Windermere. Guess what else – in the wee small hours he and some of his friends wanted picking up from a nightclub in Bowness and bringing home.

B hadn’t managed to siddle out of his shift in the kitchen at the local hotel, so needed to go late in the afternoon. I decided, as usual, to make a virtue of necessity and get out for a walk whilst I was there.

A grand house in Windermere.

Having left B to his revelry, I parked towards the northern end of Windermere and then snaked-up past some gorgeous looking houses. I’ll take two of those, if I win big on the lottery.

Another grand Windermere property.

I don’t do the lottery, so I’m not holding my breath.

Windermere from Elleray Bank.

My route spiralled in on Orrest Head, so that I ended-up approaching the summit from the opposite side to Windermere.

The hills around Kentmere.

The north end of Windermere from Orrest Head.

Looking south along Windermere from Orrest Head.

The hills around Kentmere from Orrest Head.

Orrest Head was quite busy, but probably not as busy as it would have been earlier in the day.

Wood Sorrel in Common Wood. The leaves have a lovely citrusy flavour.

From Orrest Head, I took the permission path through Common Wood and back down into Windermere, conveniently close to Booths, where I picked up some snacks for a picnic tea.

A true statement.

Bulls, suckler cows and calves can be aggressive, that seems likely to be true. It’s a bit irrelevant, however, if there are no bulls, cows or calves in the field beyond the gate bearing this aggressive message. In my experience, there never are, when a sign like this is on display, although there often are in other fields without such a warning. Once upon a time, it was illegal to put a bull in a field with a public footpath through it. Now, it’s illegal to put a bull in a field with a footpath through it, unless the bull in under 10 months old, or is of a non-dairy breed and is with cows or heifers. So that’s simple. Presumably, whilst the bull is stomping you to a pulp, you can enquire about its age, breed and the company he is keeping. Guess who changed the law? I’ll give you a clue: rhymes with milk-snatcher. To be fair, I’ve never had a problem with a bull. Suckler cows, on the other hand are another matter.

Anyway, with my picnic snacks, I climbed School Knott. Originally, I’d intended to climb Grand Sire too, but it seemed likely that I would miss the best view of the sunset by doing so, so decided to leave that for another day.

School Knott pano – Orrest Head and Banner Rigg in the middle distance.

Sunset.

I found a sheltered spot on School Knott and sat down to enjoy my tea and to take lots of very similar pictures of the sunset over Windermere.

Post sunset.

It was really rather good, if a bit parky.

All that remained was a surprisingly long walk back across the town to my car.

Oh, and a late return to collect some half-cut youths.

The view from the car park again.

Only about 6 miles, but it felt much further somehow.

Forgot to start the app. Doh!

Back to Work

Male Blackbird.

The first week back to work after our Easter break, and I was out locally on three evenings, finishing in the dark each time. The first walk was a wander to Woodwell and past Wolfhouse, then an ascent of Arnside Knott and finally, when B was driving to rugby practice, I got him to drop me off in Yealand Redmayne and walked home from there, taking a circuitous route through the little crater on Cringlebarrow know as Deepdale, then along a slight path, which I’ve never found before, which seemed to crest the Cringlebarrow ridge, and with a bit of scrambling on boulders offered a bit of a view through the trees, and then back via Yealand Allotment, Thrang Brow, Hawes Water and Eaves wood.

Male Chaffinch.

There are no photos here from the first walk, but plenty from the other two.

Blackthorn blossom, late light.

Fissured tree-trunk with sunset lighting.

River Kent and Lakeland Fells from Arnside Knott sunset pano.

River Kent and Coniston Fells sunset.

Morecambe Bay sunset afterglow.

I had the bright idea that I could walk back to Silverdale across the sands, but it was immediately obvious that the tide had been high and the mud was soft and yielding and not at all inviting, so I abandoned that plan.

An early star (a planet I guess) from Far Arnside.

Sign on a bench above Yealand Redmayne.

As if I didn’t already have enough hare-brained schemes on the go, I’ve been thinking that, when I retire, I might seek out and use all of the many benches within the AONB, perhaps have a brew there, maybe a picnic, catalogue and rate them all – the kind of pointless and obsessive venture which appeals to me. This bench, on the edge of the woods, seemed like a very good example of the kind, although I didn’t have time to stop and sit on this occasion.

The view – Farleton Fell and Hutton Roof.

Dropping into Deepdale.

I took some photographs of large paw-prints in the mud on one of the paths on Cringlebarrow – getting overly excited about the possibility that they were badger prints, but soon confirmed, once home, that they actually belonged to a dog.

Late sun through the trees.

Cringlebarrow view – sort of.

That early ‘star’ again – this time from Eaves Wood.